


Come Softly (to Me)

by Sugarbowl



Category: GOT7
Genre: 50's AU, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Anal Sex, Eventual Smut, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Past 2jae, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Sort of background markjae, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9253097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarbowl/pseuds/Sugarbowl
Summary: Jinyoung is new in town, and Jaebum is trouble. 50's AU





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! I started writing this back in November or so, after ages of [Jaebum serving Leather Jacket Looks™](http://sugarsugarbowl.tumblr.com/post/151585973913/got7europe-jaebum-leather-jackets) and never letting me rest until someone had written some JJP about it. 
> 
> This should be just 2 parts, a little uneven, and the POV switches between Jaebum and Jinyoung because I’m a flawed human.
> 
> This is set sometime in the 50’s but if you press me for an exact year I’ll cry. I spent a little too much time researching certain parts, and probably not enough time on others. I borrowed some stuff, like the term Soc from The Outsiders, one of my fav books/movies. I rewatched that as well as Rebel Without a Cause and American Graffiti, and confirmed yes they’re all great stories and much better than this fic.
> 
> The title is taken from this sweet song [X](https://youtu.be/Lc4o_wNoOBk)  
> But thematically this one is a little more on point: [X](https://youtu.be/d3_l90TM_K8)

  
**fall**

Jinyoung Park arrives with the end of summer. The days are feeling emptier, the sun feeling relentless. Everyone’s itching for a final break in the heat before they can bear the thought of returning to school.

Jaebum and his friends have ditched church for years, but they still hear the word around town. Mr. Park is the new pastor, Mrs. Park bakes a hell of a pie, and Jinyoung, their only son, is handsome and polite, if a little quiet.

It's not until the first week of school that Jaebum spots him, in the library during lunch time.

Jaebum, Jackson, BamBam and Yugyeom gather for lunch in here because the back corner tables are rarely supervised. They gamble for cigarettes and share a few sandwiches.

They're a little too loud and lewd, but luckily, the half-deaf librarian doesn't give them any trouble about it.

They're used to trouble — leather jackets, hair slicked up with grease, and foul mouths don't jibe with most of the older folks in town.

The kids in school are sometimes worse, teasing them for living across the tracks, for driving rusted cars, for scraping by. But beneath the derision there's a stench of fear. And that usually keeps things smooth.

Jinyoung comes whirling around the corner into their lives, nearly colliding with the bookshelves. He's gripping a bag lunch so tightly his knuckles have gone white.

Jaebum's table gets unusually quiet, but nobody makes a move or says anything smart. Instead, they all watch patiently as the newcomer seems to debate before forcing himself into the farthest seat at the farthest table.

It's still close enough to get a good look at him, and as the others return to their chatter, Jaebum eyes him up and down.

Jinyoung wears a slightly oversized cardigan over a wrinkled buttondown, and snug jeans that seem to be one size too small. Jaebum eyes his tattered loafers, then his ankles: white socks with just a stripe of pale skin peeking above. When Jaebum looks back up at the new boy’s face, he’s looking back, lips slightly ajar at the attention.

Jaebum smirks at him – a face he’s given cheerleaders, a face that’s gotten him black eyes in the line for popcorn at the drive-in. But Jinyoung’s face flickers with something Jaebum hasn’t seen before, almost like hunger or curiosity, and then he goes back to munching his thin sandwich.

He keeps sneaking curious peeks at their table, and Jaebum knows they’re a lot to take in. He feels the heat of the other’s gaze until it prickles.

BamBam stares back the most obviously, chin perched in his palm and snapping his bubblegum. “Why do you think the other bible-thumpers haven’t adopted him? He looks downright chaste.”

“It’s his first day,” says Yugyeom softly, peeking over his shoulder and turning up the collar on his denim. “They’ll reel him in soon.”

“I’ll bet he and Youngjae are braiding each other’s hair by next week,” says Jackson.

Jaebum manages to hold back a guilty noise as his mind suddenly races with images of them together - milky skin against milky skin, neatly combed hair come undone and Youngjae’s loud, breathy panting.

BamBam snickers suddenly, and Jaebum snaps out of his daydream to see what's tickled him.

Jinyoung is eating a banana. Jaebum rolls his eyes and kicks BamBam’s chair, and the younger boy screeches with laughter as he regains his balance. Jaebum nearly reaches for a cigarette, trying to contain his sudden burst of anxious energy. He's not sure why it suddenly needles at him, the urge to look once more, and he fights against it.

But his eyes betray him, and a second glance confirms that Jinyoung's halfway done.

His lips, thick, crest the blunt tip, sinking down around the length of the fruit. As if sensing Jaebum's gaze, Jinyoung hesitates here for a moment and his eyes flutter up to meet the look.

Eyes locked with Jaebum's, Jinyoung’s lips quiver for a millisecond, their plump weight very gently bumping against the fruit. Jaebum feels lightning in his gut.

Jinyoung’s mouth opens wider, eyes flashing hot, and he dips forward to take in the rest of the banana, snaps it up whole from the peel. He turns away with red, full cheeks and covers his mouth with his hand, looking mildly embarrassed, and the image is a little ridiculous.

Jaebum's cock doesn't think it's that silly, however, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he looks away.

Yugyeom and BamBam are back to playing cards already, but Jackson catches Jaebum's panicked eyes with a tiny smirk.

“Youngjae will think he's the bee's knees,” he says quietly, a teasing lilt to his words, and Jaebum feels seasick.

  
//

  
The soc kids aren't all that stuck up, but they run in tight, exclusive circles around town. It's not that they all hate you, but when enough of them think you're trash, it would take a miracle to get the others to look you in the eye.

Some of them are less religious, but nearly all of them go to Jinyoung's church, and all of them equate cleanliness next to godliness.

Youngjae was never well off — he grew up east of the tracks on the same street as Jaebum. When they were young, everyone played together. When they were young, he took care of Youngjae. When they were a little older, they were left on their own as others grew more aware of their differences.

Excluded already, they took comfort in each other; used to touch one another with gentle, nervous hands. Jaebum remembers it, stealing away in his dad’s auto shop after hours, pressing Youngjae into other people’s back seats and fumbling around with him until his voice got dangerously loud.

Youngjae would never kiss him, always trying hard to disconnect what they did with what they were taught.

Sometimes they'd lay in the back of his truck and look at the stars out by Devil’s Belly: a narrow, red ravine east of the town. Greasers and hoods liked to race down in the gulch, betting and winning cars if they were lucky. If they weren't — that was it.

Jaebum liked the red of the rocks out there, rusty like his pickup and Youngjae's soft, silky hair. They'd rub up against each other, knees tucked between knees.

They used to talk a lot about leaving town, but there wasn't anywhere better to go. Jaebum always figured it would work itself out.

When they were just a little older, something shifted. Youngjae had always tried to keep his shoes clean, wore soft sweaters and parted his short hair differently. He still rode with Jaebum in his truck to school, but he wandered off at lunch one day and never showed up for a ride back.

Jaebum soon saw him palling around town with Mark Tuan and his closest friends — one of the primmest, brightest kids around and top of the soc food chain.

How Youngjae made it there, Jaebum would never know. He still dressed a little dingier than the rest of them, especially once his deadbeat dad left town and he and his mother struggled to scrape by.

But Jaebum would never begrudge him this, no matter how much the other boys in their circles liked to pick on it. Jaebum’s a senior now, and their time together seems ages away, even if it’s only been a few years.

Jaebum figures he must have been holding him back anyway.

  
//

  
Jaebum sees them together the next few weeks. Youngjae seems very gentle and welcoming, but Jinyoung looks a bit startled by any attention, skittish like a feral kitten.

Sometimes Jinyoung will look up from wherever the soc kids have posted up, eyes shining with a hint of alarm. As if he's just realized he isn't meant to be there. As if he’s wondering when he’ll be found out. Sometimes his gaze will cross with Jaebum’s, and as much as Jaebum tries to sneer, Jinyoung blinks back at him with wide, warm eyes.

Jaebum tries to pass off their interactions as mild curiosity. But when BamBam pinches him in the middle of another staring session in the library, he clears his throat and looks obviously flustered.

“What's going on with you and the new preacher’s kid?” BamBam whispers, but it feels incredibly loud. Jackson titters behind them.

“He’s not scared of you,” Yugyeom notes, eyes glittering and mischievous.

“He seems a little  _off_ ,” Jaebum agrees, hoarsely.

“You could ruffle him up a bit,” Jackson jokes. “Challenge him to a race.”

“He doesn't drive,” Jaebum says quickly, and then regrets it as BamBam and Jackson’s smiles widen comically.

“Oh, he doesn't?” BamBam chuckles. “What else have you learned about him? What brand of underwear does he prefer?”

“He looks like his mom sews them,” Jackson suggests, but it's not said with malice. Still, Jaebum shifts uncomfortably.

“You guys should get him to come watch when I race the Bourbonnais Brothers tomorrow,” Jaebum suggests quietly.

“Aw, the Jaw wants to show off,” Jackson grins, squeezing his shoulder.

“Well, look at it this way: if he gets scared,” Yugyeom says, “he'll stare at us less.”

“And what about if he's interested?” BamBam suggests.

“What kinda interested?” Yugyeom asks, and BamBam purses his lips and shrugs.

“We're very welcoming,” Jackson says. “Yugyeom can give him a ride to Devil’s Belly.”

Yugyeom whines slightly. “Fine, but let's have him meet us at the schoolyard after work. I've gotta lock up the soda shoppe and I don't want to drive all the way back west to get him.”

It's a strange plot, Jaebum considers, when he sees Jackson and Yugyeom chumming up to Jinyoung out front of the school later.

Typically, they don't have to show off, scare anybody. Jaebum races, has for a long enough time, and the other boys look tough enough to hold their own.

They've only had a few fights, the soc boys getting antsy sometimes and feeling like they had to prove themselves. It rarely ended notably, fizzling out after everyone wore out.

Still, their reputation protects the younger boys, gives them something to believe in. Jaebum tries to get them to focus on their studies and stay out of trouble. A little bit of trouble — and mainly on Jaebum's part— saves them the anxiety of fitting in. Especially when they couldn’t afford to anyway.

But Jinyoung doesn't seem like trouble. He was an outsider, like them, to some degree. The church group was eager to fold him into their flock, but Jaebum could tell he didn't click there.

Mark and Youngjae and their social circle didn't seem to appeal to him, regardless of how bright and pretty they were.

And Jaebum could sort of understand it — Jinyoung looked like a good boy, but there was something different there, like he was straining, something heavy on his shoulders.

Jaebum watches, leaned against Yugyeom’s old pickup, as Jackson animatedly bumps into Jinyoung. A series of cartoonish apologies follow, Jinyoung smiling small and nodding politely, and then Jackson postures a little bit tougher. It's not long before Yugyeom is pointing Jaebum's way, likely at his truck.

Still, Jinyoung's eyes find his, and Jaebum tries not to shrink under the red hot heat of them. He doesn’t seem scared.

Jinyoung is nodding absently, just looking at him, and all the sound and image of the students moving between them seems to fade out. Jaebum feels like he’s looking down a long tunnel, and Jinyoung is a light moving towards him.

  
//

  
It’s not until he’s watching Jinyoung approach once again, out back behind the school baseball field, that Jaebum discerns exactly what he’s hoped for.

The fall air is starting to turn crisp; the moonlight feels brighter, colder as winter closes in. Jinyoung shows up with a bottle of cola, settles on the bench where Jaebum’s sitting high atop the back.

Jaebum realizes, what he’s been feeling is chemistry. They have a natural tension, and it settles in thickly around them. Mouth going dry, he feels a little giddy, a little dizzy suddenly.

Jinyoung cradles the frosty soda bottle loosely, fingers clutched delicately around the neck. His fingers are longer than Jaebum’s.

Jaebum watches, mesmerized as the condensation drips down Jinyoung's pale wrist and settles into the fold of his rolled cuff at his elbow. Jinyoung tries to open the bottle but makes a pained face as the edges of the crown cap dig into his palm.

Jaebum lets his cigarette go out as he breaks into a teasing smile. He tosses the stub aside and beckons, with two fingers, boots sliding apart on the bench beside Jinyoung. He hands him the bottle, reluctantly.

Jinyoung watches, pouty mouth hanging slightly open, as Jaebum unhooks his belt and uses the edge of his buckle to strip off the cap.

Jaebum hands the foaming bottle back to him, and Jinyoung accepts it with a murmur of thanks. His eyes are glued to where Jaebum has left his belt hanging open. He takes a gulp, mouth forming a perfect O around the opening of the bottle. Jaebum watches his throat as he swallows.

Jaebum leaves his belt and his knees open, his feet apart, watching Jinyoung's lips pulse with each gulp of soda.

“Thanks,” Jinyoung finally says with a gasp, lips popping off the top, and he swipes across them with the back of his hand. Jaebum watches how they drag against the skin.

Jinyoung seems to feel his eyes, and he looks up at him with a clumsy kind of shamelessness, licks his lips. “Did you want some?” He offers the pitiful few drops that are left, slinks the bottle back and forth between them with a lazy grip.

Jaebum shakes his head, and Jinyoung tips the rest back. He tosses the bottle away, and the heavy glass rings like a bell as it skitters across a patch of sidewalk and then goes mute in the grass.

Out here, between the baseball field and the back of the school, it's dead quiet. The yellow lights left on over the field cast long stretches of shadows from a few trees, and the parking lot is eerily empty.

“What else are you offering?” Jaebum says, after a long stretch of silence.

Jinyoung blinks at him, face flushing. Jaebum feels heat twisting in his gut, and he shifts slightly from the top of the bench back. The leather in his jacket creaks, and he spreads his thighs very, very slightly.

But Jinyoung sees it, eyelashes fluttering to look, and he licks his lips again. He's looking around in the next moment, fiddling with the hem of his ugly sweatervest, and Jaebum smirks.

“The younger kids won't be getting off work at the soda fountain til midnight,” Jaebum assures him.

Jinyoung's cheeks are fully red now, and his breathing seems to come up short as he twists slightly on the old bench. The wood groans beneath his slacks, and Jaebum looks him up and down again. He looks like such a pretty thing, all buttoned up and hair cropped and combed neat, cheeks rosy. Jaebum's fingers twitch.

“You want to do something,” Jinyoung says, breathless, and almost leans into him, but startles back. He looks like a nervous rabbit. “Out here?” His voice wavers.

Jaebum looks out across the nothingness again, before standing and wandering out toward a thick oak beyond left field instead. The shadow it casts is black and wide, and Jaebum flops back against the trunk in the dark, legs askew, and looks up expectantly.

He's surprised to see Jinyoung so close, frankly expected more delay. But Jinyoung, a good boy, followed him out here with his mouth agape already. He steps into the ink of the shadow without hesitation, leaving his bright world behind him.

Then he's skidding to his knees, and Jaebum knows his mother will scold him for the grass stains. The thought makes Jaebum smile, and he moves to flick open his jeans.

Jinyoung beats him to it, shaking fingers unbuttoning and unzipping and tugging them down his narrow hips. Jaebum raises up a bit to let them dig down around his ass, and then Jinyoung's already peeling back his briefs like he's a Christmas present, eyes aglow.

Jaebum's not hard yet, but he can feel the swell of anticipation. Jinyoung's fingers are soft, curling around him and pulling, almost polite. Jinyoung is biting his tongue in concentration, and Jaebum stares at it, pink and wet, peeking out of the plush cleft of his lips. Jaebum gets hard in just a few more tugs.

His erection bounces tall, and Jinyoung's face transforms to one of awe as he drags a hand from the base to the tip. He gently cradles the head with his soft palm, rolling over it to feel the way the slit sighs open and shut, and Jaebum shudders.

“Your mouth,” he says thickly.

Jinyoung's nodding, still holding his dick with two hands like it's precious, like he's never seen one.

Jaebum supposes seeing a pulsing, pink hard-on up close is a little different to the usual fellas flopping around after gym, or even at home with your own. This one expects something.

Jaebum lifts his hips slightly in encouragement, moans even just as Jinyoung's hot breath gusts against it on approach.

“I've never,” Jinyoung is saying, but then he's kissing the head softly, molding his lips to the curve of the crown, eyes dropping shut and eyelashes looking long against his cheeks. He slurps at it slightly.

Jaebum thinks deliriously that he looks like an ad for ice cream; a fantasy of a person, all soft porcelain skin and pink lips, just blissfully licking and licking. But he's real, and it's eleven on a school night, and Jaebum's got him crawling to him in the dirt to suck his dick.

Jaebum twitches under his light ministrations. “C’mon,” he gasps, fingers curling around the back of Jinyoung's neck, tugging his head forward.

It jams his mouth farther down on his cock, and Jinyoung reflexively yanks back for a moment to cough. But he returns with more enthusiasm, as if it confirmed something, and Jaebum feels his jaw relax around his girth, lets out a moan.

Jinyoung sucks in earnest now, eyes shut like he's kissing, and Jaebum thinks he might be in trouble. This isn't what he expected, for the preacher’s son to be anything but mortified. He honestly thought the insinuation alone might scare him off for good.

Jaebum figured he'd call the kid’s bluff, get him worked up and then chase him off.

He didn't expect this: the curl of Jinyoung's wet tongue up and down the length of his cock, dipping sweetly into the slit to taste the precum as Jaebum can barely hold himself back.

He didn't expect the way Jinyoung's whole face and body would change, shifting like he was born to suck dick, looking so soft and pretty and letting Jaebum thrust deeper, deeper still. His pink cheeks hollowing out, the hot pressure of his mouth and the tight ring of his fat, wet lips — Jaebum shudders and comes explosively.

And Jaebum thought — when he did think about it a few times  — he imagined Jinyoung would back off his cock and spit.

Instead, Jinyoung sucks him through the climax, drinks down every pulse of spunk like it's all he's ever wanted. Jaebum watches him finally slip off his softening length, and he catches a glimpse of pearly white, watches with glazed eyes as Jinyoung cleans up his chin with one long, lovely finger.

He slips his own digit into his mouth to clean it off too, and the image supplies Jaebum with even lewder fantasies.

Jinyoung leans back on his heels, watches as Jaebum tucks himself away. Jaebum eyes the way the other’s trousers look tighter, but he hasn’t thought that far. And suddenly he feels like he has little to no power over the boy — he got what he wanted but there's no shame on Jinyoung's face.

“I heard you're going to race later,” Jinyoung says, flopping back and luckily not looking like he expects anything in return. His voice is a little hoarse, and Jaebum likes it.

“We play for pink slips,” Jaebum says with a shrug. “You probably heard.”

Jinyoung nods shakily, fingers knitting into the grass beside him. “They call you the Jaw,” he says softly. “All ‘round the school.”

Jaebum smirks a little, can't believe this boy is still sitting here, making conversation like his lips weren't just gripped unholy in Jaebum's lap.

“A stupid old joke,” Jaebum says. “From how I look when I used to fight.”

“Used to?” Jinyoung wonders.

“When a town’s small enough,” Jaebum says gruffly, “eventually you don't have to fight much to look like you fight.”

Jinyoung nods. “Reputation,” he says quietly, with a gravity that Jaebum knows is from bad experience.

The others join them under the tree a little later, and it doesn’t feel wrong, or dirty for them to be there with Jinyoung. Jaebum hides the bubble of panic this causes with a cool smile. He hadn’t expected this fit.

Later, they head out east to Devil’s Belly. Jinyoung watches with Jackson, Yugyeom and BamBam from above the ravine, feet dangling comfortably out the back of Yugyeom’s pickup.

A few other kids from town have assembled too; even a few soc kids who eye Jinyoung on the other side of the crowd with a few frowns and a lot of whispered questions.

Jaebum wins. He knows the path through the ravine so well he's tough to beat. It's not really about speed — it's about handling, knowing what to expect. A second of hesitation, a moment of doubt, they add up in the gulch, and they cost you.

Dings, punctured tires are one thing. But once Jaebum's pulled ahead enough to block your view, there's no coming back for the lead.

The course is usually kept short. Too far south and the gulch gets real tight. The red rock walls will sneak up on you, and then there's no time for stopping.

Jaebum beats the Bourbonnais Brothers smoothly, easily in his favorite, an older Bel Air. He slips past them early on.

When they've reconvened up top to an audience, he lets them keep their car. It's a customized hot rod that they seem to have Frankensteined together to intimidate more than run well, and he isn't sure if some of the flashier parts would really be worth much in town.

This concession seems to embarrass the brothers, a dark-eyed, greasy pair of hoodlums from a few towns over. They get testy.

There’s a little bit of a scuffle, but they take off when Jackson moves forward to even the numbers out.

When Jaebum turns back to Yugyeom's truck to coolly accept the younger kids’ congratulations, he sees Jinyoung with trembling, wet eyes.

“What's the matter with you?” He nudges him aside to ask, even as the others start to leave. Jinyoung tugs at his shirt, like the collar is digging into his throat. Jaebum looks at the white of his neck hungrily.

“It's frightening,” Jinyoung says candidly, and then they both watch his hand dart out toward Jaebum's jacket for a moment before curling back against his side. “It scared me.”

Jaebum wants to promise him it's safe, wants to lie to make him feel better. He frowns at the feeling, too new and too intimate. Bristling with discomfort, he looks Jinyoung up and down and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Why do you always wear such rank pants?”

Jinyoung blinks rapidly, the anxiety clearing away as his cheeks flush. “Excuse me?” He asks indignantly, smoothing out his slacks, which fit him at the waist but are a little too wide, blousey, a style more suitable for a grandfather than a high schooler.

“You’re either in tight little jeans leftover from middle school,” Jaebum murmurs, thumbing the belt loops at his waist. “Or in these billowy sails. You look like my great-aunt.”

“I’m sure she’s a lovely lady,” Jinyoung says stiffly, tugging his hips away. Jaebum’s eyes flicker up to catch his again, glittering with  amusement.

“She is,” Jaebum agrees. “But she’s blind.”

  
//

  
**winter**

Jinyoung spends more time with Jaebum and his friends at the auto shop and out at the gulch, and less time at the soc tables and soda shoppes.

The groups don't entirely avoid each other, overlapping at school events and around town in general.

Jinyoung's attitude starts to shift. Slowly, subtly. He's not as sharp as BamBam, not as boisterous as Jackson. But you can tell he's spending time with a different crowd.

Sometimes he’ll skip church services, or he'll snap and pull away from pleasantries. His parents’ eyes have gotten colder, watching him with growing disapproval.

The more Jinyoung lashes out, the more often they try to ground him or lecture him, and the more Jinyoung wants to tear away. It's an exhausting, reactionary loop that leaves him feeling more and more distance every day.

Jinyoung takes comfort in his new, self-formed family. Jackson dotes on him the most, parading him around at the ice cream parlor where he works, like he’s something to be shown off. Jinyoung daintily picks at his free sundae and enjoys the prickling feeling of some girls’ jealous eyes.

Jackson has a slightly different reputation from Jaebum – while he’s seen as low class, he’s a gentleman with the girls in town and they turn bashful around him. Jinyoung can’t blame them, Jackson’s swept back, bleached hair looks striking with his leathers, and when offset with his gleaming, earnest eyes, he’s a blink away from being a dreamy film star.

Jackson flirts with everyone, so it makes Jinyoung feel more comfortable. It doesn’t carry nearly as much pressure as Jaebum’s narrow glances.

Jackson gives girls he likes extra cherry toppings on their ice cream, even when they jokingly order none.

“He gave me three once,” Jinyoung hears a girl in a booth whisper.

Hani, a girl with bouncy bobbed hair and a playful smile that rivals Jackson’s, laughs generously. “Neat,” she says, and then angles her own heaping dish so they can compare. “I got seven.”

She glances up at the counter, and Jackson sends a wink her way. Jinyoung smiles softly around his spoon as he watches.

“When are you going to take her out?” He whispers, when she's turned away. Jackson actually blushes a little and shakes his head, wiping down the counters diligently.

“It doesn't work like that,” Jackson admits. “I'll never be good enough for one of them.”

Jinyoung peeks back at the girls, who are giggling quietly, and Hani is still stealing glances at the counter.

“She likes you,” he assures Jackson. “You're more than enough for her.”

Jackson's tight smile straightens out completely, and he tosses his rag into a laundry bucket behind him. It rattles a little and he pauses to steady his breathing. “It's not just her I’d have to win over,” he says lowly. “It's the whole town. Let alone her parents – you know her pop is a deputy? It wouldn't work out.”

Jinyoung stares at him and tries not to argue. Jackson seems to sense his encouragement and manages to conjure another small smile.

“I don't want to get involved,” says Jackson, “and then hurt her if we get pressured apart.”

Jinyoung nods, accepting this with some finality, understands that Jackson's obviously thought this through before. It’s a pessimistic view, but Jinyoung supposes that’s the way they have to be. Jinyoung wishes he could be as forthright about it, instead of wallowing so much in his daydreams.

Spending time with BamBam and Yugyeom is a little less wholesome, the two younger boys wilder than Jinyoung had quite imagined. Weekends are spent sneaking into double bills, or setting off elaborate, Rube Goldberg-esque exploding contraptions in the drained community pool. Sometimes they convince adults to buy them a bottle of liquor, and Jinyoung spends all night babying them when they get sick.

Still, they’re warm and welcoming enough, patient when they ask Jinyoung questions he can’t answer (“If you’re dad’s a preacher, why’s he only preach on the west side of town?”) and only BamBam slyly teases him about the eyes he makes at Jaebum.

Jinyoung tries not to be obvious. He's not sure how much the others know. That they have this chemistry, it's damning enough. But that they've done what they've done? He's not sure they'd guess.

And that it’s become a habit, a sort of ritual — Jinyoung going down on Jaebum before every race — he doesn't want them to think less of him.

Still, he does it. Their draw to each other isn't quite clear, to be honest. He and Jaebum do a lot of reading together, often are complementary voices of reason when BamBam and Yugyeom want to get into too much trouble. But they aren’t big talkers, so he isn’t certain how connected they really are. He supposes, in this town, with his tastes, beggars can’t be choosers.

Not that there’s anything he’d choose differently about Jaebum. His gaze is too sharp, but it fits his face, his attitude, his jacket. He’s got two moles over his left eye, so delicately placed Jinyoung sometimes wonders if they’re painted on. Fingers full of heavy rings, broad shoulders and thick, strong looking thighs that strain through worn jeans. Jaebum is everything Jinyoung’s ever fantasized about when lost in a cheap romance novel.

He never thought he’d be real, and he certainly never thought he’d be a good person. But watching Jaebum with the younger boys warms his heart. Reluctantly, Jinyoung feels himself slip deeper and deeper for Jaebum, uncaring that he’s already on his knees.

  
//

  
“The winter sock hop is tonight,” BamBam says gleefully, helping Yugyeom tie a firework to an old rollerskate. “Are we going to make an appearance?”

“For what?” Jaebum complains. He, Jackson and Jinyoung are lounging along the edge of the empty pool, watching the youngest assemble their latest makeshift light show.

“We could spike the punch,” Yugyeom suggests, miming tipping an imaginary flask. “Last year the geography teacher got really handsy with one of the Christmas trees.”

“You want to get your ass grounded all winter break, for coming home smelling like peppermint schnapps again?” Jaebum asks.

“I won’t drink any this time,” Yugyeom whines.

“Liar,” BamBam laughs. “Jinyoung, you should have seen him – he kept telling everybody else they were drunk.”

“A lot of them were,” Yugyeom says, picking up a cord and walking back up the incline to the shallow end and out of the pool. BamBam nearly skips along behind him.

Jinyoung draws his knees up off the edge, just in case. Jaebum watches him and smirks.

“He screamed at a bench in the park,” BamBam continues, giggling.

“You’re  _drunk! Get offfa me!_ ” Jackson crows in imitation.

“He rolled off of it and hit his head,” BamBam coos, ruffling Yugyeom’s slicked hair out of place. “He used to be a little smarter than this.”

On cue, Yugyeom lights the long fuse. “Not  _that_  much smarter,” Jackson adds, as the spark speeds down the length of the pool. BamBam squeals in anticipation.

The firework ignites, and then promptly fizzles out. BamBam groans and drops his head, Yugyeom letting out a long sigh beside him. Jinyoung lets his legs down.

“Schnapps?” Jackson suggests.

Even the school parking lot is abuzz with activity when they arrive. Jinyoung has never seen the soc kids let loose, but it looks like some of them have very similar plans for the punch.

The other boys have started drinking already, having nicked various bottles from their parent’s collections. Having nothing to contribute, Jinyoung decides to keep from indulging and trails along a little slower behind them.

From this perspective, he can enjoy the way the alcohol has already smoothed out Jaebum’s walk, hips dipping with each crunch of his boot.

Once, he glances back over his shoulder at Jinyoung, sultry dark eyes gleaming over black leather, some of his hair tumbling out of its messy sweep. It steals Jinyoung's breath away, and he forgets to walk for a moment.

A honk of a car waiting for them to pass an empty spot startles Jinyoung from his appreciation, and he blinks up in a daze, stepping back to let the car cut between him and the rest of the group to park.  
  
Startled, Jinyoung realizes this is Mark’s car. He never likes interacting with him, however pleasant — he’s too confident, too friendly, and his hair is always too clean. He's everything Jinyoung was supposed to be.

Mark gives him his usual beaming smile as he steps out of the driver’s side, hurrying around to the passenger seat and helping out… Hani, Jinyoung realizes with another jolt. She's in a modest circle skirt and a soft looking sweater, and Jinyoung feels shabby in his dad's old cardigan.

“Hi Jinyoung,” Mark says, moving toward the gym but waiting for him to shuffle along and join them for some reason.

“Hi,” offers Hani, with a smile that’s smaller than usual. “I didn’t think you all would show up,” she says quietly, glancing around the lot as if trying to spot the greasers. Jinyoung is relieved to see Jackson’s already gone inside.

“I didn’t either,” he assures her.

Mark has the audacity to laugh, pats Hani on the elbow warmly. “Our dances can be pretty hard to resist,” he says to Jinyoung. “Did they have a lot of social events at your last school? Where was it again? Mountain View?”

Jinyoung pales a little, wonders what Mark’s fishing for. “Garden View,” he murmurs.

Mark’s smile melts a little, as if he didn’t expect the other to confirm what he’d been suspecting. “Wow,” he says. “I didn’t realize–,” and of course Mark Tuan would be a bad liar, he’s too good of a person. “I’ve got cousins out that way. I can’t believe what happened to that chapel. Is that why you guys left town?”

Jinyoung shrugs, nods, feels nerves prickling all down his back. Mark glances aside at Hani and then clears his throat.

“Hani, how’s about you go get us a spot at a good table? See where Youngjae’s at. I’ve gotta use the restroom first.” He waves her off with a smile, and then turns back to Jinyoung, face sobering.

“Listen, Jinyoung,” he says quietly, and he reaches out to touch him gently on the shoulder. Jinyoung wants to move away but opts instead to stay still and just watch him.

“I know we haven’t gotten a chance to talk much, even with bible study and helping your dad with services and all that. But I want you to know, I’m here if you just need to someone to talk to. Somebody to listen.”

Jinyoung stares at him from beneath a steady, untrusting brow, waiting for the vitriol.

Mark makes a soft sound of frustration. “I don’t know all the details, about Garden View. Just some mumbles,” he assures him. “But look, Youngjae – he's the same.”

Jinyoung squints at him suspiciously, still unsure what he's after. “I don't know what you mean,” he says.

“Sure,” says Mark with a sideways smile. “I mean: he has has similar, um, urges. I promised I'd help him, because I used to have some trouble with it myself. But you can get through it. You just have to have faith,” he says.

“ _Faith_ ,” Jinyoung repeats softly, feeling his stomach churn.

“I’m sure you've had a tough time. It's easier with friends, who can help you keep things under control. And you know, God is merciful,” Mark rambles.

“Why would a merciful god condemn love in the first place?” Jinyoung snaps, yanking his shoulder away.

There's a long pause, and then Mark's smile has disappeared again when he finally nods once more. “ _Kid_ ,” he says in a different voice. It's less polite, less lilting. The timber of it surprises Jinyoung.

“You're right. It's not God you've got to worry about,” he says. “It's everybody down here.”

An icy breeze blusters between them. Mark's coat looks thick, expensive. He turns the collar up calmly. Jinyoung wraps his cardigan tighter around himself and buries his hands in his pockets, tries not to tremble.

“When you make friends with the wrong people,” Mark continues, turning away. “It doesn't matter if you're doing wrong or not. Everybody will make up their mind about you anyway. And that's what can hurt you, down here. They can make this life hell, too.”

With this, Mark heads into the school. Jinyoung exhales slowly, watching the puff of his breath it lingers in the frigid air.

When Jinyoung finally goes inside, it's not hard to spot the others. Fingers numb with winter, Jinyoung approaches the noisiest corner of the gym. Red-faced, frantic teen dancing around him does little to distract him, although he catches a few elbows.

There's a mix of kids with the boys that Jinyoung's never seen before, including some tough, sultry looking girls in matching, satiny jackets and bright lipstick.

“Jinyoung! There you are,” Jackson sings out, wrapping an arm around him and tugging him to his side. Jackson's warm, smelling like brandy and leather. Jinyoung subtly nestles closer.

“These girls are from Springfield. You know, where the Bourbonnais brothers were from. They heard about Jaebum beating them, you know. They’ve heard of us.” Jackson seems giddy to be recognized, even if it's not quite his own merit.

It must be nice to see new girls for once, Jinyoung considers. He watches Yugyeom shyly introduce himself to a redhead. She smirks and offers him her glass of punch.

Jinyoung bites back a smile as Yugyeom's eyes boggle at the lipstick print on the little cup, swiveling it around carefully to sip from a clean side. His face scrunches up in distaste immediately, but he quickly tries to smile through it, and the groups erupts into cackles around him.

Jinyoung, still giggling himself, glances around. It's only the vaguest question in his mind — where is Jaebum?

First, he instead spots Hani, Mark and Youngjae. Hani looks bored, stirring a spoon in her teacup and meeting Jinyoung's curious eyes. She smiles tightly, glancing over at Mark and Youngjae, who are quietly whispering and smiling, heads dipped and touching.

Jinyoung purses his lips as he watches, wondering what Mark really meant by ‘ _friends who can help_.’

Besides him, he feels Jackson turn and the way his body stiffens next to him, his hand slipping off Jinyoung’s shoulder, he knows he’s spotted Hani.

Hani blinks across at him, face flushing. Mark leans over to say something to her, finally, but her eyes stay on Jackson. Jinyoung peeks up at his reaction, and Jackson’s face is very well composed, smiling and returning to conversation with his own group in a heartbeat. If Jinyoung hadn’t been pressed up against him, felt the way his whole side went taut, he’d never know. This is the way things will stay, he thinks sadly.

The thought of Jaebum itches at Jinyoung again, and he returns to scanning the room idly.

A flash of a Springfield girl’s jacket catches his eye, in a corner by the bathrooms. The girl is a little taller than Jaebum, leaning her frame along his bodyline unabashedly, bending her head down to kiss him.

Jinyoung watches and feels his expression chase away from his face, feels like the sparkling lights and cheap streamers of the gym are closing in around him.

Jaebum isn’t pulling her close, leaning back and letting her do most of the work, lets her lips move against his, and Jinyoung watches in a daze as the lipstick smears against his mouth.

The slim girl draws back for a moment to smirk at the mark she’s made, and Jinyoung feels dizzy, nauseous. Jaebum’s eyes flicker back towards their group, gone rowdy and now teasing a pair of exasperated chaperones.

Jinyoung feels his gaze meet his own, and immediately drops it, turning away from them all, flinging Jackson’s arm off of his shoulder.

Jinyoung thinks Jackson might be calling after him, but he can barely hear a thing over the roaring, slamming sound of his pulse in his ears.

He’s pressing through bodies, pushing the sports coats and bobby socks out of his way until he’s finally outside again. The cold air slams into his face and he chokes back a sob.  _Everybody down here_ , he thinks of Mark’s words again.  _Down here, they can make life hell_.

 


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Here’s part two, it got a l i t t l e long. There’s a short scene with abuse/violence but it’s nothing graphic, just a heads up. Also some dismissive talk and language about mental health, nothing intentionally disparaging, just a part of a character’s individual story and personality.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and for all of your thoughtful comments - they really keep me going. I hope you enjoy it!

 

**spring**

It's not long before Jinyoung ends up back out at Devil’s Belly, again.

BamBam and Yugyeom invite him along, parking the truck next to a group of giggling girls. Jaebum's racing a soc kid tonight, which Yugyeom describes as a rare event that usually only happens to prevent a rumble.

Buck had been getting snappy around school lately. He had always been gruff with the greasers and other kids from across the tracks, but for Christmas, Buck got a Thunderbird. Suddenly, it had seemed like he was outright looking for a fight.

When he called BamBam a swishy little fairy, Jaebum extinguished his cigarette on Buck’s letterman jacket. Buck had shook him off in a rage and bet his T-Bird against Jaebum's Bel Air.

Jaebum had barely blinked, and BamBam lit another cigarette for him, and that's how they all end up out here.

BamBam’s down in the gulch to start the race, already gloating. He swings a bandana in the air with a flourish, and the roar of engines sets Jinyoung’s nerves on edge.

Jinyoung recognizes one of the girls up top as Buck’s girlfriend, Jo. She doesn't start out looking very concerned, whooping and waving. She's made a felt pennant with his name on it, waves it proudly.

Time seems to slow, Jaebum’s black car keeping a steady pace along side Buck’s white one. Buck’s steering looks erratic, like he’s trying to confuse Jaebum by zig-zagging. Jinyoung wouldn’t admit it, but as the walls of the ravine start to close in on them he has a pulse of concern for Buck. This isn’t a course to play tricks in. One bump against the rock and you’ll have to overcorrect.

But it’s only a few minutes, time rapidly running out as the gulch starts to narrow. Buck is straightening out after another dangerous feint, pulling away from Jaebum, and then Jaebum’s Bel Air chips the paint on the T-Bird, pulling ahead. The scrape of metal sickens Jinyoung for a moment, but Jadebum’s car purrs as it slows down, and Buck keeps with Jaebum’s pace til they come safely to a standstill.

Jaebum wins another one, and the soc crowd grows quiet and uneasy, suddenly judgmental.

“I can't believe the Jaw hasn't gotten locked up yet,” Jo whines, and the girls beside her murmur sympathetically.

“I’ll bet he's cheating somehow,” says another, and Jinyoung and Yugyeom glare across at them. “Not a hint of remorse, either.”

“He’s totally mental,” Jo agrees. “And now poor Buck is going to be in hot water with his old man — you know that Thunderbird was his Christmas gift. That boy is downright heartless.”

“Get bent!” Yugyeom snaps, stamping out his cigarette. “You knew they were playing for pinks and you weren't crabbing. You made a friggin’ flag. Now all of a sudden it's  _heartless_ , huh?”

Jo sneers at him, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder with a huff. “It wasn't handled like gentlemen, is all,” she says.

“So what's a girl like you doing all the way out here at Devil’s Belly, looking for a gentleman?” Jinyoung counters smoothly. “Last I heard, you don't go East past the malt shop with a boy unless you're easy.”

Her red lips twist into an angry pucker, and all of the girls around her all visibly bristle.

“Yeah,” says Jinyoung pushing up off the hood of Yugyeom's pickup, “I think that's probably it, isn't it? That backseat meant a lot to you,” he hums, running his fingers along the bumper, looking at his distorted, angry reflection in the scuffed chrome.

“Everybody’s seen your ankles go dangling out those windows every weekend at the drive-in, so I bet that car’s got a lot of  _sentimental_  value, huh?”

The group of girls gasp and yelp, but Jo sneers. “You shouldn't listen to gossip, Jinyoung Park,” she says, and her friends start trying to press her into the back of their car.

Jinyoung blinks coolly at her glowering face and raises his eyebrows. “It sounded very reliable,” he says. “You know, Marge down at the Elk pharmacy says she let you off the hook a couple times for nicking prophylactics.” Another girl in the group completely covers her face with her hands.

“That's funny,” Jo says dryly, and her face has gone hard like stone, “I guess it's better being safe than sorry, though. ‘Cause I heard you like to suck the greasers off for nickels — that's why those thick lips of yours are breaking out.”

One of Jo’s friends even screeches out loud at this and swats her on the arm. They finally wrangle her into the car and peel out of there all abuzz.

Jinyoung watches the tail lights fade out like cigarette butts, kicking up dust like smoke. His head feels heavy as he grits his teeth and tries not to look at Yugyeom, ears buzzing.

The innocent zit by the corner of his mouth burns in shame, even though Jinyoung knows it wouldn't have made a difference with or without it.

Yugyeom, to his credit, doesn't say a word. There's no giggle, like Jinyoung anticipated, just warm, thick silence. It's humid, like the weather. Even now he hears thunder in the distance, as dark clouds move over the town.

Jinyoung knows Jaebum and BamBam will be up from the gulch soon, ready to celebrate. And he desperately doesn't want to face them, feels too foolish. They won their battle but he’d lost his.

“Storm’s rolling in,” Yugyeom offers, voice hitching only slightly as he eases off his hood and wanders around to the driver's side. “Should get outta here before lightning starts. I'll drop you off.”

Jinyoung can't quite believe how kind the gesture feels. As if he didn't just hear that Jinyoung's up to no good.

Jinyoung tries not to look affected, easing into the crackling leather of the front seat as if everything's alright. Yugyeom drives him home with the radio on, the fuzzy warbling of doo-wop filling the gap in their conversation.

Ashamed though he is, Jinyoung still can't help but think fondly of all the times Jaebum’s let him do it. He recalls the image of Jaebum's face as it contorts in pleasure, thinks of the gasps and shudders of his breath. He can feel the ghost of his fingers around the back of his neck, the weight of his cock in the depths of his throat. It feels worth it.

It’s true, he considers, glancing at a seemingly oblivious Yugyeom. He’s sucked off a greaser – but he did it for free. What would Yugyeom and the others think? Does that make him better or worse?

They go over a bump and several empty crates out in the truck bed clatter loudly. Jinyoung can't help it as he startles, cursing softly as he looks out the back window to confirm the truck itself isn't falling apart.

“She'll hold together,” Yugyeom says with a laugh as they turn down a familiar main road. Jinyoung tries to let himself relax, glancing back a few more times.

“You eat a lot of peaches,” he manages to croak out, the crates all wearing similarly faded, once-boisterous labels.

Yugyeom laughs again, eyes going crescent with his sweet smile. “This truck used to be Jaebum’s,” he says. “He’s got family just over the mountains, they’ve got an orchard he helps out with sometimes. His parents are always saying they're gonna ship him out there permanently if he doesn't cool it.”

Jinyoung lets the information sink in, tries not to focus too much on the image of Jaebum out in the warm sun with his sleeves rolled up.

“He sold you the truck? That’s nice,” he says quietly.

“He didn’t sell it to me,” Yugyeom says, and sighs as he yanks the parking brake up. It's a block away from Jinyoung’s house, so they won't wake his parents; it's an important part of the racing ritual.

“He just gave it to me. That’s sort of why he started racing,” he says fondly. “He helped win a car for BamBam’s family first, since they were really down and out after his dad passed. Now he mostly does it to protect his reputation – keeps us safe if Jaebum stays looking tough.”

Jinyoung’s stomach twists, and he knows what this feeling is. He knew Jaebum wasn’t just another troubled kid. The way he'd confidently lured him in had been attractive — but now, to hear that his biggest crimes were really altruistic, knowing there’s so much more under his worn leather jacket, it’s too much. It’s more than attraction.

He murmurs a thanks to Yugyeom and climbs a tree to tumble back through his bedroom window. Alone with his thoughts, he realizes he has to be careful. If he’s this interested in Jaebum already, it won’t get any easier.

With a guilty shudder, he traces the seams of his bed’s quilt, thinks about the last boy he’d felt anything for.

The way Hyunwoo had made him feel had been more confusing, especially being younger, and Jinyoung wasn't certain if it was the same.

They'd hardly spoken, both a bit awkward. They had been fifteen and Hyunwoo seemed to lead, tugging Jinyoung into his arms after his second or third attempt at tutoring. Hyunwoo’s grades didn't go up, but Jinyoung learned how to kiss.

Jinyoung had always felt fragile with him, a little overwhelmed by the other boy’s attentions and the way they'd rarely talk. Often, Jinyoung couldn't tell how deeply they felt, or if it just felt good.

When they got too sloppy and were found rolling around in Hyunwoo’s basement, their families immediately kept them separate. Jinyoung's parents painted Hyunwoo’s affection as one-sided and of a dark, unstable influence.

Maybe his parents were right, Jinyoung considers miserably, toeing out of his loafers and flinging himself back onto his bed. He blinks up at the ceiling and tries not to cry.

Hyunwoo had burned down that town’s little chapel.  
  
The last Jinyoung heard before his father moved them quickly and quietly to another parish, Hyunwoo had been sent to a mental asylum on the other side of the country.

Jinyoung could barely remember packing, moving, driving anywhere. All he remembered was curling up and bawling for hours.

Jinyoung lives with the guilt now, a shadow cast over him.

It hadn't been his fault entirely, but he’s free and Hyunwoo is gone. Hyunwoo had wanted him, had done something  _for_   _him_  — and Jinyoung had just barely started to realize what was going on, before being moved away quietly.

Why should he be out here, in another town, with another boy, trying to steal happiness again?

Jinyoung isn't quite sure what happiness even is. Is it the touch of someone, between your legs? A kiss on the nose — outdoors, in front of everybody — when it's cold? Or is there something better? Deeper? Jinyoung hadn't gotten as far as any of those and he wasn't sure he should try.

He knew already, though. It was too late for him to stop seeing Jaebum. Too late to talk himself out of it as mere admiration. He wanted Jaebum, and he wanted  _all_  of Jaebum.

  
//

  
Jinyoung finds himself in the new Thunderbird a few weeks later, with Jaebum. They drive west, to an abandoned observatory in the mountains. They park out back, in the deep moonshadow cast by the domed building.

“The socs have been calling me a cocksucker,” Jinyoung says quietly, as Jaebum leans back to get comfortable.

“Big deal,” says Jaebum. “You think Mark Tuan hasn't sucked somebody off? I've seen how he looks at Youngjae — you think they’re just praying when they sleepover?”

Jinyoung bristles slightly at this, glancing aside with a small frown as he unbuckles the seat belt. Jaebum still can’t believe he insists on wearing one. “Mark and Youngjae? I’d wondered,” Jinyoung says. “Mark probably promised he'd help him pray it away. He's my dad's favorite young parishioner.”

“Touching,” Jaebum snaps. “Youngjae used to be  _my_  favorite.” It comes out quieter than he intended, the sentiment leaking.

Jinyoung stills, fingers still looped around his lap belt. “Youngjae didn’t mention you that way,” he says after a moment of consideration. “He just said he grew up with you,” Jinyoung pauses here, and the silence makes Jaebum’s head dizzy.

He looks hungry, aching, like he’s been waiting to know how– if – Youngjae thinks of him for ages. Jinyoung can feel his anxious energy, on edge.

“He said you two were close as kids, and you took care of him. Until high school and then you went  _strange_ ,” Jinyoung’s tone shifts, as he seems to reconsider the implication. “He blamed it on your neighborhood. Said it was so full of thugs you didn’t know how else to be.”

“It’s  _his_  neighborhood too,” Jaebum snarls.

Jinyoung nods. “You two, were like that?” He skirts around the phrasing. They both know what he means; like  _that_  means  _like_   _us_. Like  _that_  means  _wrong_.

Jaebum doesn’t meet his eyes, realizes his hands are gripping the steering wheel too tightly. With a shaky exhale, he loosens his grip and leans back, tries to relax. It takes a few more deep breaths to find his words again.

“It doesn’t mean anything anymore,” he says. “He found god, or Mark, or whatever it is that keeps us  _different_.” He pauses, glances at Jinyoung’s short hair, simple sweater. “And if you want to get your reputation back on track, you’d better get away from me, while you still can.”

He finally turns to look at him now, tries to keep his eyes cool, hopes he looks as mean as the girls in school say he does.

But Jinyoung isn’t flinching, his own eyes merely observant. He hums to himself for a moment, and Jaebum watches him sift through his thoughts.

“The first boy I kissed,” Jinyoung says slowly, like he's unsure how Jaebum will react, “the  _last_  boy I kissed – he burned down our church and got hauled away.”

Jaebum frowns. “Why are you telling me?” He asks, but his back has gone taut, straining again.

“You gave me your warning,” says Jinyoung, “so I'm giving you mine.”

Jaebum nods after a long pause, and then he’s tugging Jinyoung across the bench seat while moving to meet him. Jaebum unhooks his own belt, unzips his own jeans, and grabs Jinyoung’s hand and crams it down his front.

It’s Jinyoung who gasps, but even Jaebum’s eyes flutter shut. It feels good for the both of them, to connect again with somebody who wants the same thing. It’s carnal, grounded in their physical chemistry, but it’s been enough for now.

Jinyoung's soft fingers curl comfortably around him as he hardens, gently gripping and stroking so he swells.

Jaebum reaches around the nape of Jinyoung's neck, tugs his face closer, and Jinyoung doesn't hesitate to kiss him.

Jaebum had been curious, what it'd be like, to actually taste the lips he'd seen stretched out so sinfully. He leans over him now to take them, moves his lips carefully, almost delicate.

But when Jinyoung opens up and licks invitingly, Jaebum nearly devours him. He can feel his jaw start to ache as he tries to spear his tongue deep into Jinyoung's mouth, Jinyoung frantically panting and curling his own tongue to try and keep up.

It's nasty, not particularly sensual, and there's saliva all over Jinyoung's chin. Jinyoung actually laughs as Jaebum draws back, chest heaving.

“It's hard to breathe,” Jinyoung says, and Jaebum grimaces before reluctantly letting himself chuckle too. It's strange to start kissing now, he knows, after Jinyoung's had his cock in his mouth a half dozen times or so.

But there's an unspeakable appeal to Jinyoung's mouth. He's hoping he’ll get to feel it in every possible way, if he can only steal them the time.

He returns to it now, and they kiss deeply, slowly. It's better now, Jinyoung's fingers moving in rhythm along his length with each smack of their lips.

“Am I good?” Jinyoung whispers suddenly, and Jaebum startles at the question, looking at him nearly cross-eyed, they're so close.

“Of course,” Jaebum says hoarsely, wrapping an arm around him again. Jinyoung avoids his mouth, though, turning his cheek at the last moment. Jaebum kisses his neck instead.

“Better than that Springfield girl?” Jinyoung wonders in his ear, tugging his hands away from his cock and Jaebum laughs, pulling away.

“I was drunk,” he sighs. “It honestly wasn't much to talk about. Tasted like my cigarettes.”

Jinyoung nods, still looking preoccupied. “She was all over you,” he says quietly. “Lipstick, perfume, satin. I haven't got any of that.”

Jaebum frowns, and he doesn't know how to respond for a moment. He stares at Jinyoung strangely, as if trying to work something out.

Jinyoung's breath catches as Jaebum finally reaches out to him once more.

“Your lips,” Jaebum whispers, dragging a finger slowly along their seam. “They're red enough — and they don't smear off.”

Jinyoung flushes, watches Jaebum's finger trace down his neck, dipping down to dance along his collarbone. His body bends over him, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight. Jinyoung dips down into his darkness eagerly.

“Even your sweat, smells sweet,” Jaebum says, “and I don't know how.” He moves forward, nuzzling into the crook of Jinyoung's neck. His hot breath makes Jinyoung shiver.

His finger continues down the front of his pullover, dips into his waistband for a moment.

“And inside,” Jaebum says, undoing Jinyoung's fly. “Inside your mouth is soft like satin, hot and slick like sin.” He tugs Jinyoung's knees open, dips his hand down his pants, between his legs. Jinyoung trembles as he nudges around the curve of his balls and presses his finger bluntly between his cheeks, through his briefs. The fabric doesn't do much to dampen his sensitivity, and he yelps quietly.

“So I'm thinking,” Jaebum continues, circling his entrance slightly with his finger, alternating the pressure of it. “You must feel like heaven in here.”

Jinyoung keens, back arching as Jaebum presses into him. Even through the thin cotton, it's more than he imagined.

“I've  _never_  — nobody's ever,” He whispers.

“Okay,” says Jaebum softly, leaning back over him. “It's gotta go slow first anyhow.”

Jaebum slips his pants and briefs off of him entirely, shoves his down to match. Jinyoung scrambles to get out of his sweater. It's clumsy in the confined space, still in t-shirts, but they make do. Jaebum presses Jinyoung back, knocks his knees wider apart.

“Do you have to use something?” Jinyoung murmurs, as Jaebum moves to touch him again. “When I touch myself I… I use petroleum jelly sometimes,” his cheeks flush.

“When you touch yourself,” Jaebum repeats with a slow spreading smile. That's an image he'll definitely return to later. “Yeah, that makes it easier. I haven't got any—!” He sits up with a start, seemingly remembering something, and he digs in his jacket on the car floor for a moment.

“Here,” he mumbles, “can't be much different.” It's his beat-up tube of hair dressing — the cheapest, greasiest brand that the soc kids are too stuck up to use.

Jinyoung lets out a soft noise as he watches him coat his fingers with it. It isn't one of protest, though, his thighs straining to stay apart, hands cupping behind his knees to hold his legs up.

Jaebum presses one finger into him first, kisses him at the same time. It doesn’t do much to distract, but Jinyoung wants to focus on the feeling anyway.

It's one thing to accept a cock in your mouth, it's another to be intimately touched. Like this, with Jaebum being excruciatingly gentle, with Jaebum wanting to touch him back, it feels like a fantasy. The burn of himself stretching as Jaebum presses in and out is the only thing that grounds him in reality, and he savors it.

Jaebum adds another finger quickly, scissoring them inside so that his rim starts to relax. Jinyoung gasps with each movement, so deeply felt, tickling inside him.

“You can imagine I'm Youngjae,” Jinyoung suddenly blurts out, his voice creaking with desire as Jaebum curls his fingers inside of him.

Jaebum nearly yanks them out at the declaration. “What?” He huffs against Jinyoung's neck. “What are you saying?”

“If it makes it — if it makes it feel better for you,” Jinyoung stammers, eyes squinting open even as he continues to writhe and pant beneath him.

“Is that what you think,” Jaebum says slowly, drawing his fingers nearly all the way out and then ramming them back in. Jinyoung mewls, back arching off the squeaking vinyl seat. “That's what I've been thinking about? All this time?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, eyes screwed shut again and panting as Jaebum increases the speed of his fingers. He enjoys the lewd squelch of the grease, the way Jinyoung's rosy knees keep nudging farther up against himself. The way his hard cock trembles and smears against his tummy where his shirt’s rucked up.

“I never thought—!” He gasps. “I just meant if you wanted to. Because you miss him something awful.”

It's not an ideal time to have this conversation, Jaebum thinks, sourly. Let alone he's hard as a rock, hands covered in hair grease, ready to split this boy in two. But they're also parked out in public, have been for a while. It's a neglected area but if they're caught now, it's more than curfew and a talking to. It's indecent enough for real trouble.

“Turn over,” Jaebum growls, slipping his fingers out of Jinyoung's bottom.

“What?” Jinyoung murmurs, twisting beneath him in the confined space.

“Get on your knees if you can,” says Jaebum. “Put this up,” he tugs Jinyoung's pert ass towards himself. “It'll fit easier,” he whispers.

Jinyoung hums, and does as he's told, pressing his face into the stiff seat with a sigh.

Jaebum dabs a little more hair oil on his palm, sweeps it up and down his length for as much help as he can hope. “It'll hurt a little,” he says, nudging his head against the glistening, puckered entrance. “But you'll know when I can move.”

Jinyoung nods, lets out a little moan as he feels the head of Jaebum's cock just slightly dip inside.

Jaebum bends himself over the other completely, sheathes himself slowly but surely. Jinyoung trembles, groaning a little at first and then turning his focus to his breathing. Jaebum can nearly hear him counting in his head.

“How's it?” Jaebum asks, burying his nose in the sweat at the nape of Jinyoung's neck.

“ _Big_ ,” Jinyoung warbles, and Jaebum can't help but smirk a little. He pats him gently on the hip, grinds himself soft and warm and slow, not enough to thrust but enough to let him feel.

Jinyoung moans again, canting his hips back into it just a bit. “I need—!” He gasps. “I think I'm ready, I think I need you to move.”

Jaebum hums, kisses him just under the ear. Jinyoung cries out, vividly sensitive.

Jaebum draws his hips back, struggles to not whimper as well as he feels each soft ridge and pucker of Jinyoung's insides against himself.

He pushes forward again, savoring the heat. He's never felt so close, so fast like this. He can feel the rhythm of Jinyoung's pulse where they're connected, can't believe he can actually feel another person’s life force.

“I haven't,” Jaebum suddenly says, building a rhythm as he yanks back and then slams into him again. “I haven’t been thinking about him,” he pants, thrusting faster.

“I wasn’t back then, and I'm not now. When I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm thinking about anything,” he admits.

The car is slowly rocking with their movements, seat springs groaning as Jinyoung's face is digging harder into the vinyl. He's gasping and sweating against it until it's starting to squeak as well, matching the pitch of his own sounds.

“You make it easy. I don't think about anything but how you feel,” says Jaebum. “How good you make me feel.”

“Me too,” Jinyoung says quietly, brokenly, but Jaebum hears it, even over the creaking of the car and the soft, wet slap of their fucking.

Jaebum smiles at it, dips further forward and wraps his arms around his waist so he's thrusting deeper. Hips pistoning, he pounds him harder into the seat.

“Feels good,” he says against Jinyoung's shoulder blade, the thin tee damp with sweat.

Jinyoung whimpers as Jaebum continues to hammer into him, cock spreading him open wider and wider. His left knee slips off the edge of the seat and Jinyoung gasps with it, the angle going awkward for a moment before Jaebum yanks it up for him and then it's helping him plunge deeper.

One hand on his shin and the other gripping his waist still, he keeps rocking into him, enjoying the way Jinyoung's hips thump back against him so eagerly.

“Can—can you touch me?” Jinyoung is begging, his arms cramped up under his chest, one hand on the door, trying to keep himself from slamming forward into it.

Jaebum slips his hand at his waist farther down, takes Jinyoung's cock in hand for the first time. He can't believe it's the first time, can't believe he waited this long to touch the pretty thing, stiff but velvety soft.

The noise Jinyoung makes is sinful, and he arches up and back against Jaebum's chest, twists his head to nuzzle Jaebum's cheek.

Jaebum's breath catches, trying to focus on keeping pace, but he slows down so he can find Jinyoung's lips with his own. The angle is strange, but the need to kiss him is overwhelming, thumb dragging over the sensitive, cut head of his cock.

Jinyoung mewls into his mouth, and Jaebum shudders at the immediate snap of power — he'd never considered the one giving pleasure to be the one in control. But now, with a frantic, writhing Jinyoung beneath him, hips bucking between his cock and his fist, he’s gone. All he wants is to see him unravel.

Jaebum presses forward still, cramping Jinyoung further towards the car door, and Jinyoung cries out as he slips forward, away from Jaebum's kisses and slamming his head into the seat cushion.

Jaebum keeps thrusting into him, tightens his grip on his dick, and watches him come.

Jinyoung’s back goes tight, the tension in his waist highlighted by a single sharp moonbeam, his spunk spilling against the seat. It's beautiful to watch, even from behind, as his insides squeeze around Jaebum simultaneously.

Jaebum tries not to cry out, groans with the force of his own orgasm as he still snaps his hips through it, spilling inside Jinyoung's perfect, snug heat.

Jaebum slips out of him dripping, and he moves to find a rag he stowed under the passenger seat. Jinyoung flops limply as Jaebum dabs between them, but stops his arm as he reaches for his pants.

“Can we?” Jinyoung asks, breathless. “Just – a minute.”

Jaebum's jaw is tight, eyes scanning the empty lot for a moment before settling and curling behind him with a sigh. “Just for a minute,” he agrees, their hips cradling, curling a hand low on Jinyoung's belly, still a little sticky.

“Jaebum,” says Jinyoung, after much more than a minute.

Jaebum hums pleasantly into his neck.

“Have you ever thought about leaving town?” He whispers.

Jaebum's eyes snap open, and he thinks about laying like this in his old truck, with Youngjae, and how they grew apart instead. He heaves a sigh, sits up, and starts dressing again. It’s too easy to slip back into the comfort of a relationship, to let himself hope again.

“There's nowhere better to go,” he snaps. “Not for us.”

Jinyoung understands his meaning, but it feels insincere. “ _Jaebum_ ,” he implores softly, wriggling back into his underwear and pants.

Jaebum's starting the engine again, the growl of it piercing the quiet of the mountaintop. They’ve already pulled out of the lot and are back on the winding highway by the time Jinyoung's fully dressed again.

“Listen,” says Jaebum roughly, eyes locked on the road ahead.

“If I  _knew_  where,” he starts, voice trembling. The moon rises bright, larger than life as they round a hill and can see down into the valley. The main streets of their town twinkle, looking desperately small.

Jinyoung turns to watch the moonlight illuminate Jaebum's frowning face instead.

“If I knew where to go,” Jaebum says, “I'd take you with me.”

  
//

  
**summer**

The next weekend, Jinyoung's father corners him into his study after a particularly stiff, unconversational dinner.

“I heard from Jo’s mother,” he says gruffly. “You two have been trading quite the blows.”

Jinyoung feels heat prickling along the back of his neck, his ears going red with shame. Still, he's not sure how much his father has heard, so he plays dumb.

“Who do you mean?” He asks. “Jo Struthers? I don't think she's even in any of my classes.”

“Devil’s Belly,” Jinyoung's father says, taking off his glasses and flinging them onto his desk. “You two were out there watching some greasers race — she’s calling you a queer, and I thought,  _well!_  I suppose I ought to be grateful I’ve had  _practice_  hearing this filth.”

Jinyoung remains silent.

“You know, it's tough,” his father continues. “Your brother, he wasn't a perfect son.” He knocks loudly on a bookshelf, where they keep a soft grey photo of Taecyeon in his finest military dress uniform.

A slightly goofy smile, a pair of ears just like Jinyoung's, and a chest full of medals seem to mock him.

“Not the top of his class. Not even much for studying scripture. He got into a lot of fights,” says his father with a sigh. “Rambunctious, his teachers liked to say. Rowdy, if they were cranky.”

Jinyoung tears his eyes away from the photo back to his father's face, dark and steely.

“But Taecyeon,” Jinyoung's father growls. “He never got into trouble with people's mothers — he never was a catty little gossip like you.”

Jinyoung's jaw tenses, and he shrinks back a little. “I goaded her,” he offers. “I called her easy and she came up with the worst thing she could.”

“The worst thing somebody can come up with,” his father actually chuckles, but it drips with bitterness. “Should never be the truth. If you weren’t whoring around with thugs, people might be able to get through to you.”

Jinyoung lets his chin drop, unsure of how to respond.

The sting of his father’s slap is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. Jinyoung stumbles back, reaching for the door before his eyes start to water.

But another, heavier blow catches him upward by the jaw, and Jinyoung lets out a startled noise.

“I don't know what to  _do_  with you,” his father says, and through Jinyoung's tears he can see a look of distress. Like his father is just as lost as Jinyoung.

He hits Jinyoung again, and Jinyoung crumples to his knees, arms coming up to cover his head. Jinyoung didn't know how much he wanted to live, how much he wanted to try to be happy, until now. When for a brief, frantic moment he isn't sure he’ll get the chance.

His father leaves the study just as he thinks it. Jinyoung lets his arms down with a quiet sob.

Bruised, it's hard to sleep that night. His room doesn't feel like his own, although he'd already started to feel like it didn't fit. He lays, very still, neck taut as he considers – how did he do this to himself? And is there a way, to go back?

He doesn't leave the house that weekend, ignores the pebbles that the boys toss carefully against his windowpane. He feels weak, nervous about their reaction. And he doesn't want Jaebum to see him — he feels too ugly.

Monday starts the last week of school, and reluctantly, without breakfast, Jinyoung drags himself there in hopes of Yugyeom and BamBam cheering him up.

When he sees them for lunch, their faces are stony. Jaebum isn't around, Jinyoung realizes.

“What's going on?” Jinyoung asks, nearly crashing into a seat at their library table.

“Jaebum got in some trouble,” Yugyeom says quietly. “Buck got drunk, drove his dad's car over to the auto shop and tried to run him over.”

“ _Is Jaebum_ —?” Jinyoung gasps.

“He's fine,” says Jackson. “Buck missed him by a mile, speared that Oldsmobile through the garage door and flattened it into the shop wall. Jaebum was out in the scrap yard.”

“What about Buck?” Jinyoung wonders.

“He's in the hospital,” BamBam says shakily. “Jo was saying he's awake, but he might not walk again.”

Jinyoung feels sick, cold all over.

“He shouldn't have gone after revenge,” Yugyeom whispers, looking paler than usual.

“You think that's how his parents will see it?” BamBam snaps, and it isn't meant to be so brusque, Jinyoung can tell, but BamBam’s clearly processing the events farther ahead than Yugyeom. “Or do you think they blame the Jaw for getting him into illegal racing? Haven't you heard the kids out here — already calling him a menace in the halls?”

“Jaebum didn't get him drunk,” says Jinyoung shakily.

“But Jaebum took his toy,” Jackson says. “Which drove him to it.”

“They'll blame him,” BamBam confirms. “The whole town will.”

“Where is he?” Jinyoung asks finally, “Where’s Jaebum now?”

BamBam glances at Yugyeom, who looks at Jackson, who rubs his face tiredly before answering. “His parents finally had enough.”

Jinyoung’s heart races, feels a sympathetic flutter of nerves in each of his bruises. “What did they–?”

“They were always threatening to send him to work on his great-aunt’s farm, you know? And they finally did it,” Yugyeom says. “She’s widowed, blind and doesn’t trust her hired help anymore. So it’s just gonna be Jaebum this season.”

“And a whole lotta peaches,” Jackson says somberly. Under different circumstances, Jinyoung thinks he’d find it funny.

“And we’re stuck here,” says BamBam. “Me and Yugyeom wanted to go  _with him–_!”

“You’ve got to finish school,” says Jinyoung quickly. “He would never let you drop out.”

They nod reluctantly, and Jackson tries a small smile of encouragement. “It’s not much longer for you,” he says to them. “Just focus on doing it for him.”

“What happened to  _you_?” Yugyeom suddenly asks, pointing at Jinyoung’s cheek. The others seem to notice his face for the first time. Jinyoung wonders what he had been so nervous about – if anybody could take seeing a few scrapes and bruises, it’s this group.

“Retribution,” Jinyoung says quietly. “Jo’s mother contacted my dad.”

“Pastor Park…?” Yugyeom whispers. BamBam curses under his breath, and Jinyoung can’t find it in him to scold him.

“Are you okay going home?” Jackson asks.

Jinyoung pauses, not having considered it. The memory of the miserable look on his father’s face doesn’t inspire fear as much as disgust. “I think so,” he says finally. “Until school’s out, at least.”

He leaves it unsaid, but the way they all nod resolutely makes it clear they understand. When he’s done with school, he’s done with home. He’s gonna cut out of there.

  
//

  
It takes a little longer than he figured, Jinyoung collecting his thoughts and what sparse belongings he thinks he’ll need. He fishes out his tiny bundle of savings, stashed neatly beneath his mattress since he was twelve.

It’s a weekday morning, and his father is away, leading a bible study at the local nursing home. His mother is doing some mending in the living room as he descends the stairs, and he stares across at her soft profile in the muted, dusty light.

Her hair is simply pinned, face lightly powdered. She looks beautiful, framed nicely in her elegant sitting room, and for the first time since Jinyoung decided to leave home, his heart aches a little.

“Love you,” he says quietly, fiddling with the rucksack over his shoulder. His mother freezes, looking up at him in alarm, before her face shifts into one of suspicion.

“Jinyoung,” she says lowly, brow dropping. “What are you up to?”

Jinyoung gives her a tight-lipped smile and shrugs. “Nothing,” he says, and then he’s out the door.

It’s not stifling hot yet, but the dust alongside the nearest highway already starts to stick to Jinyoung’s damp neck as he paces back and forth a length, thumb out.

He’s never hitched before, but he hopes he won’t have to go far. Knowing Jackson worked all day in summers, and not wanting to bear saying goodbye to BamBam & Yugyeom, he decides this would be his best option.

As a lumber truck rumbles nearer, his stomach twists in knots. He’s heard sensationalized stories about hitching too, of course. Sometimes frightening, sometimes lewd. As the truck begins to obviously slow, the brakes squealing with effort, Jinyoung can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Is there anything he isn’t willing to bear, if it means getting away?

Come to a standstill, he sees the shaded figure of the truck driver reach across to unlock the passenger door, and in spite of his nerves, Jinyoung hops up the side and into the cab. Once he shuts the door, he’s preoccupied as he settles for a moment, planting his bag between his feet and hunting for a seatbelt.

“Where are you headed?” He asks, distracted as he hunts for the belt in between the seat and the back.

An arm reaches around him, digs it out from beside the door, and Jinyoung finds himself suddenly face to face with a blushing, older Hyunwoo.

“West,” says Hyunwoo, drawing back quickly, his voice a comfortingly familiar rumble. “How about you, Jinyoung?”

“Hyu—Hyunwoo,” Jinyoung whispers, eyes brimming with tears already as he flashes back to being curled in a ball and crying for hours. Blinks quickly but can't clear the image of blackened rubble. Hyunwoo is listening to pop on the radio but Jinyoung hears whispers as his family packs their things.

“It's been a while,” Hyunwoo says, and he's shifting the truck into gear and moving them down the highway, blinking rapidly too.

“I thought you got shipped off to the east coast,” Jinyoung mumbles. “Didn't you get locked up… in a…”

“Loony bin?” Hyunwoo finishes for him, cheeks round with an awkward smirk, eyes wrinkling with it. Jinyoung can't believe he's seeing this smiling face again.

“My parents did make me see some old head shrink,” Hyunwoo says. “Not out too far, though. And I blamed it all on you,” he admits, laughing bashfully. “Said I’d been seduced.”

“You're okay?” Jinyoung croaks, still in shock.

“It was hard,” Hyunwoo says. He looks older, more tired than his age. “Without graduating, and without any help from my parents, it made getting out on my own and stuff harder.”

Jinyoung glances around the truck cab as if seeing it for the first time. “But you got a job,” he whispers.

“It's okay, now,” Hyunwoo confirms. “I get to see a lot.”

They're quiet for a while, the low rumble of the truck soothing as they head into the foothills. Jinyoung watches telephone poles pass, in a daze.

“I thought they might have — really hurt you,” Jinyoung says.

“It did hurt,” says Hyunwoo. “Leaving.”

Jinyoung watches him fondly, pleased to see him – alive and whole.

They ride in warm, companionable silence for another hour or so, continuing slowly through the ridge of mountains.

“Do you know where you're going?” Hyunwoo finally asks.

Jinyoung can't hold back a laugh at the vague depth of the question, feels the most like a wayward youth he's ever felt. “Not really,” he says slowly, “but there is someone I’m trying to get to.”

  
//

  
Jaebum wipes his brow, curses softly. The afternoon sun is merciless, and he can feel his skin starting to burn.

His great-aunt has been quiet, sweet. There's constantly peach pie — and how she manages so deftly around her kitchen without sight he’ll never understand – breakfast, lunch, dessert after dinner. Jaebum is certain he'll be sick of it in a week, but in the meantime he pairs it with hot, black coffee and counts his blessings.

The farmhands were let go too long ago, and the orchard’s overgrown already. Jaebum knows half the harvest will be lost, he's been brought in so late in the season.

He's working one row at a time, picking what he can and trying blearily to prune and weed as he goes. It's too much work and too little is valuable, but he's crating what he can and hoping for the best.

Some fallen, already overripe fruit litters the grounds. The sickly sweet smell can get overwhelming, but today it wafts around him lightly, and he inexplicably thinks of Jinyoung. He plucks a good peach from another branch, thinks about how pink his knees and elbows were, how sweet the musk behind his ear smelled.

His thumb smooths over the fuzzy skin, and he hears a loud crunch of earth behind him. There are plenty of cats roaming around the property, including one seal point with bright blue eyes that seems particularly fond of him.

“ _Nora_  girl,” he drawls, tossing the peach in an awaiting crate and turning around with a smile on his face, grateful for a distraction.

His smile slips, face freezing as his heart twists. It's Jinyoung Park, crept not so softly back into his world.

He seems tired, hair mussed slightly and looking a little irritated. His jaw has got a shadow of stubble, and Jaebum wonders immediately how it'd feel against his own. An old plaid hangs loosely from his shoulders and he's finally in jeans that fit. Jaebum could eat him whole.

“Who’s Nora?” Jinyoung asks tersely.

Jaebum laughs, can’t help it, the situation feeling ludicrous. “You came, 300 miles, to see me,” he says. “And you think I’m sticking it to somebody named Nora?”

Jinyoung looks around, as if he’ll spot somebody. The orchard stretches out for acres, without a person in sight. Jaebum reaches out and tugs hard him by the arm, until they’re standing flush against each other. Jinyoung drops his bag. Jaebum can feel Jinyoung’s pulse fluttering in his wrist. He doesn’t let go.

“Would you turn back?” Jaebum whispers, wrapping his other arm around his slim waist. “Would you let her stop you?”

Jinyoung frowns up at him, clearly understanding he’s being teased. “I’m sure she’s very nice,” he says, with a pout.

“Well, don’t split,” Jaebum whispers. “She’s a cat.”

Jinyoung tears away from him for a moment, laughing out loud and looking blissfully weightless. Jaebum keeps hold of his wrist, reels him back in and kisses him. He holds his fuzzy face in both hands and smiles against his lips.

“What are you doing here?” Jaebum asks.

“You promised,” Jinyoung says quietly. “If you found a better place, you'd take me.”

Jaebum nods against his cheek, eager to feel the warmth of his breath with each word. “I'm sorry I had to go a little sooner,” he whispers. “I’m glad you still followed.”

He kisses him again, soft and slow and wet. Jinyoung lets his head tilt back and rakes his fingers through Jaebum's familiar slicked back hair. Jaebum nearly purrs at the feel of it, nuzzling into him shamelessly.

Jinyoung realizes, ears gone red, what was missing with Hyunwoo. He'd felt treasured, but he wasn't willing to follow him. Wasn't burning anything down for him. Could’ve run then and didn't. With Jaebum, he didn't even think. Didn't consider any other option. Took a gamble on a highway, on a hot summer's day, for this.

“So, peaches?” Jinyoung finally says, looking around again when they part, out of breath.

Jaebum laughs again, still in giddy disbelief. “You’re going to have to help, you know,” he says, trying to contort his face into a serious expression. “It's a big job, inside and out. You ever worked at anything? You're gonna have to, if you’re staying.”

Jinyoung nods and slips away from him, peers into one of the crates on the back of the farm truck. “Are they even any good?” He wonders teasingly, and picks one up and examines it.

Jaebum, still short of breath, chuckles softly as he watches. But his grin fades quickly as Jinyoung smells the fruit, pouty mouth bumping against the curve of it.

He watches as Jinyoung takes a bite of the peach, sees the way his plush lips so softly settle around the curve of it. Everything is quiet, just an exhale of his breath against it, and then Jaebum hears the soft snap as he teeth break the skin. It's a dull, velvet crack and then Jinyoung's chewing, slurping the nectar as it gushes out.

It's been years since he's been to church, but the imagery isn't lost on Jaebum — he thinks of the first sin. Forbidden fruit, so sensual even in its most literal depiction.

The juice runs down Jinyoung's knuckles and around his slim, pale wrist. It traces in rivulets down the length of his forearm, and his skin is transformed into an abruptly highlighted, glistening nude in the rosy afternoon light.

Jaebum watches, still quiet as Jinyoung munches, like he hasn't eaten in hours. And maybe he hasn't — it's a long ride from town. Longer if you were hitching and might have to switch rides along the way.

But then he's reaching out, offering Jaebum the mutilated fruit.

Jaebum can't stop himself, burying his face into Jinyoung’s hand. He's eager to press his mouth into the sticky sweet mess, to suckle off what flesh still clings around the woody pit.

In his hurry, it drops entirely out of Jinyoung's trembling grip. Jaebum doesn't notice, tongue buried now in the soft clefts of Jinyoung's hand, and he travels along it. From the mound of fat of his palm along the taut tendons in his wrist, until he's bending his arm back and tugging his worn shirt off his shoulders.

Jaebum is suddenly desperate, in absolute need of fucking Jinyoung into the soft soil until he’s certain this is real.

They tumble down, still sticky with juice along their arms. As they peel clothes off, they paint streaks of dirt down each other's sides, the dust of the orchard kicking up around them and settling into the new sweat.

Jaebum kisses his lips softly, slowly, even as the rest of their touches are hurried. Jinyoung’s mouth warrants a thorough kiss, deserves delicate attention. Jaebum lathes the outside with his tongue, suckles the nectar from the thickness of his bottom lip until it tugs open with a gasp.

He can feel Jinyoung trembling beneath him, knees knocked wide apart. He helps tug the jeans off his slender hips, yanks them with his briefs all the way down his legs and knocks his loafers off as he discards them entirely.

Jinyoung's hands are shaking even as he kisses back, as he presses closed, chaste kisses down Jaebum's neck and tries to undo his belt.

The telltale rattle of Jaebum's buckle lets him know, and he reaches down to guide Jinyoung's nervous fingers through the motions, holds his fly open so Jinyoung can pull his length out and press it into his palm.

With a hiss, he curls over Jinyoung at the embrace of it, the gentle tug towards his center. Jaebum pulls Jinyoung's hand back for a moment, wavering on his one arm as he hovers above him.

He spits into Jinyoung's palm, and the preacher’s son doesn't even bat an eye. Instead, Jaebum watches his lashes lower dark and soft atop his cheekbones as he redirects his hand between them, watching himself slick up another man's hard, throbbing cock.

Jaebum is fumbling to press his fingers against Jinyoung's lips next, groans at the familiar flick of his tongue. It’s warm in Jinyoung's mouth, and the slick sound as he works his fingers in and out of the suction reminds him of how well they fit together.

Jinyoung’s eyes flutter up to meet his gaze, suckling his fingers in good and deep as he looks up at him with naked trust.

Jaebum tugs them back and moves down quickly to slip them into him one after another. Jinyoung hisses at the blunt intrusion, but they both seem to anticipate this is going to hurt. Their sudden freedom calls for something harsh, to remind them they’re not dreaming. They’re really here, tucked away from prying eyes and the burdens of their small town.

Jaebum works him open as best he can, Jinyoung mewling and scrabbling to grip onto Jaebum’s shoulders above him. The spit won’t last, the burn will tear right through it, but if he can at least stretch him out a little more, it’ll help.

Jinyoung seems to understand, seems to be fighting himself to keep from shrinking away. Instead he burrows back against the ground, lets his hips move up to meet Jaebum’s hand and lets out a long, loud noise. He’s breathing through his mouth already, panting as Jaebum strokes in and out of him, curling his digits lightly to massage his insides.  

Eventually, Jinyoung’s shudders slow, and he pivots his hips around slightly before letting out a gasping cry of pleasure. Jaebum yanks his fingers back immediately, and just as Jinyoung’s eyes fly open at the emptying sensation, he buries his cock in him.

It’s one swift, deep stroke, Jaebum rocking into him without whisper or preamble, and Jinyoung nearly chokes on another wail.

It burns alright, and Jinyoung lets his legs wobble open wider, tries to spread himself more so it won't be so tight.

Jaebum helps him, pressing his knees back against his chest, hitching his ankles up over his own shoulders, and Jinyoung gasps with the stretch.

Then Jaebum's grinding into him, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in. Everything smells sweet, and he goes slow, only small movements at first.

Then Jaebum's knees dig into the ground, and he thrusts hard for the first time, and Jinyoung wails. It’s satisfying, the immediate give and take of moving inside of him. He's a hot grip around his length, suctioning Jaebum in.

And each time his cockhead drags along his rim as he pulls it back, Jinyoung lets out the breathiest moan he's ever heard. Jaebum feels drunk, fucking him like a dog in the dirt.

He's thrusting mercilessly when he sees Jinyoung reach for himself, and his hips stutter and he loses rhythm as he sees the other’s fingers curl around his leaking pink cock. Jaebum can't believe how intoxicating it is to see Jinyoung pleasure himself — better even than pounding into him like this, skin slapping loudly.

So he pulls out, turning and laying beside him instead. Jinyoung startles, frozen in position, hand stilling on himself.

“Get on top,” says Jaebum, voice thick with arousal. “I want to see you fuck yourself. I want to see you do it.”

Jinyoung complies without question, face gentle as he swings a leg over and carefully, slowly slides down onto his dick with a little mewl. He sighs out his satisfaction once he’s settled, and then there’s a little bit of fumbling as they both try and figure out how it’d be best for him to move. But finally, blissfully, Jinyoung is bouncing in his lap, thighs scissoring slowly, grinding his hips with each touch down. He takes him so smoothly, as if he’s been waiting for it his whole life.

Jaebum thrusts up eagerly, holds him tightly by the hips, eyes glazed over as he watches. Jinyoung’s lit with dappled sunlight, shadows shifting across his face as each breeze makes the trees sway. Leaves rustle above them like soft applause. Delirious with pleasure, Jaebum thinks he can’t wait to see this sight again in spring – Jinyoung riding him beneath a halo of falling blossom petals instead.

It's afternoon but it feels like dawn for both of them, a hopeful turning point. Jinyoung folds over him with a cry as he comes, hand trembling where it palms his cockhead. Jaebum watches the pearly drip of his semen squeeze through the spaces between his fingers, breath hitching at the visceral image, and he comes. Jinyoung shudders slightly atop him, thighs straining to keep him in place as Jaebum gives his last, sloppy strokes and pulses inside him.

The heat of it is nearly unbearable, Jaebum reveling in the hot, liquid grip of his own jism, thrusting a little longer even as he softens. It’s only when he can no longer stay inside, slipping out, that Jinyoung finally flops beside him, exhausted, and Jaebum’s breathing slows.

“Will you always come to me?” Jaebum asks.

“You make it easy,” Jinyoung whispers.

They’re sticky, filthy, and the truck full of crates, half still empty, seems to be shouting at their laziness. But Jinyoung has found him, and there will be many more harvests done right. He never expected taking a peek at a churchboy’s ankle could transform his life. Content with the thought, Jaebum brushes Jinyoung’s damp hair out of his eyes and lets himself feel grateful.

 


End file.
